Since that mention a couple of weeks ago, though, I think I have heard or read the word at least once a day. It reminds me of the Law of New Vocabulary: learn a new word and suddenly you'll hear and read it everywhere. Bedazzler wasn't exactly new to me, but suddenly it has been unearthed, and it's everwhere. I find myself with an urge to start Dazzling. Riley and Maddie would love it. So far, I have refrained.
The Bedazzler is not the only rediscovered word and object I have encountered of late. In the process of packing up my house, I stumbled across all manner of little forgotten items, triggers of memories, tiny treasures of the past. I found the most recent one yesterday morning. When I reached deep into my coat pocket to extract my glove, it came out with a ribbon attached.
John and I were not big gift-givers, but on the rare occasions that John did give me something material, he always put together a lovely package. John was very sentimental and romantic, but much more one for a card or poem or song than for an object. This particular ribbon, which was wrapped around an object that I have long since forgotten, is itself the very kind of romantic kitch that John loved most: white satin with lettered in some kind of handwriting font with words like cherish, forever, togetherness, love.
I tied that piece of ribbon around the headboard of our bed after I unwrapped the gift, and there it stayed, for years. It has survived a few cleaning people (who seemed to know that if someone ties a ribbon on a bed, it must be done for a reason), a cat, my in-laws (who once decided to clean my bedroom [let's not even talk about how inappropriate that was just in idea] and threw the ribbon in the trash, causing me to totally freak out and get the whole household to dig through our garbage and recycling until we found it), and two toddlers.
Why this ribbon is so meaningful to me is a mystery. It's just one of those things that is so very John, one of those things that has stuck around to remind of of the good of the past, and one of those things that I've invested with sentimental meaning that could never, ever be replaced. I don't have many objects like this, and the ones I have almost scare me because I'm not sure what I'd do if anything ever happened to them. For me, this is the danger of finding most "stuff" totally superfluous: the stuff that is meaningful is really, really meaningful.
When I was packing up the Old House, I neglected to pack the ribbon. It wasn't until I was back at the condo picking up some last-minute things (an errand I continue to run nearly daily) that I noticed it. This must have during the week that I was scheduled to meet with the stager, because I remember feeling relieved that I noticed the ribbon before she had a chance to declare that Such Randomness would make my house Unsellable and get rid of it. I removed the ribbon and shoved it into my coat pocket, where it lay, forgotten, until yesterday morning.
It's laying on my lap right now. I've left it in my coat pocket since my bed is still at the Old House and the bed I'm using at CV's has no headboard. I've nearly lost it a few times; it often clings to my fleece gloves as I pull them from my coat, and already this morning, as I was leaving daycare, Riley held it out to me and said, "Mama! What this?" But I keep stuffing it back in my pocket and enjoying the memories it brings back when it flutters out when I reach in for my keys or a Kleenex or the googley eye that fell off Maddie's art project last week that she now needs back IMMEDIATELY.
I'm tempting fate. If I don't find somewhere to put the ribbon, I'm going to lose it. Part of me wants to lose it. This move out of the Old House is a fresh start. There's a part of me that wants to shed the few Meaningful Objects I cling to and break away from that past. Perhaps I should run over my special coffee mug and tie the ribbon to the Japanese maple we planted at the Old House, perhaps for a bird to find and take away to its nest. But perhaps that would be foolish. I have so few of these objects. It's possible that their place of honor in my life has a reason and serves a purpose. Maybe I'll tie the ribbon on Riley's crib. A montage of pictures of John with the kids hangs over Maddie's crib, but Riley's has no Meaningful Object of its own. That's what I'll do. Tonight. If the ribbon is still in my pocket when I get home.
Work = SO BUSY.
Me in the evening = SO LAZY.
No offers on the condo yet, but "lots of activity," says the realtor. Um, OK.
Riley is doing really well with the star night-light, but has managed to completely refrain from talking before it comes on only once. Most of the other days, his talking involves saying, "THE STAR IS NOT ON YET," in a rather loud voice, admonishing N and Maddie (who are often still sleeping) not to talk, and then waiting for it to come on. He's funny.
The poor little Ri-Man fell off the couch and totally mangled his hear on a radiator. Virtually no blood, but his ear is one big bruise. He's on the mend.
My in-laws get here tomorrow for a weekend. I think it will be good, although I know it will also be hectic and exhausting.
We didn't go to church last weekend; instead, we went to the Children's Museum. So fun! But I missed church and hope to go back this weekend.
Maddie has discovered Polly Pockets. It's the dawn of a new era.
I'm watching Idol this season. Of course I'm watching Idol this season. I'm going to blog about it starting next week, but my early faves are Lil Rounds and Danny Gokey. And I really, really hope Anoop makes it through to the Top 12.